Tara Quinn - The Secret Son

Jefferson waited. And Erica knew how much it was costing him to do this. Her husband always anticipated crises, always acted decisively, attempting to resolve problems if he couldn’t prevent them. Asking him to just sit and do nothing wasn’t fair.

“I never realized it was possible to hate myself so much,” she said in a low voice.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Knowing you as I do, I’m sure there’s no need to put yourself through that kind of grief, Erica, so why don’t we talk about whatever this is and get it behind us?”

If he had any idea…

Erica opened her mouth to speak but, looking up at him, couldn’t make the words come. How could she do this to him? She, who knew so well how devastating it was to be betrayed?

After suffering the effects of Shane’s betrayal, she’d never have believed herself capable of doing anything so deplorable. So selfish. So hideously unfair.

Her stomach roiled, and Erica was afraid she might be sick again.

“I met a man in New York.”

Jefferson’s head dropped.

“His name’s Jack Shaw. He’s a hostage negotiator, used to be with the FBI.”

Her husband’s shoulders straightened as he sat back and held his head up to meet her gaze.

“You want a divorce. To go to him.”

“I’m never going to see him again.”

She had no way of seeing him, even if she wanted to, which she didn’t. Her life and Jack’s—they were farther apart than ever.

Jefferson’s eyes narrowed. “He left you?” If Erica hadn’t been feeling so completely miserable, she’d have smiled at the delivery of that question. His tone said How dare he leave you? as though Jefferson himself was ready to go hunt the man down.

She shook her head, instead.

“We both knew when we left New York that we’d never see each other again.”

“Why not?”

She did smile then, though tremulously. “I’m a married woman, Jefferson.”

“That’s more in name than in deed,” he said sadly. “And I was aware from the outset this might happen. Hell, Erica, I’m old enough to be your father. You think I haven’t been prepared for this from the beginning?”

“No,” she said, a little shocked.

“Well, I was.” His posture was relaxed; only the fact that he couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands revealed his inner turmoil. “I’m not going to stand in your way. And I sure as hell don’t want you feeling beholden to me.”

Erica felt as though her world was spinning increasingly out of control.

She wanted to tell him she’d married him for better or worse. That she’d never—once—had any intention of forsaking those vows or asking to be released from them.

But she had forsaken them.

In the worst possible way.

It all came pouring out then. How Jack had saved her from that jerk at Maggie’s. How they’d never planned to see each other again, but how they’d each shown up at Maggie’s the next night, just in case the other might happen to stop by. How they did the same thing every night that week. How they talked. And never touched. Never even went anywhere else.

How she’d have come home in a second if she could have gotten the Journal reporter to talk to her.

Jefferson nodded at that point.

She told him about Jack’s wife and daughter. His job. How he, no less than Erica, wasn’t free to embark on a relationship.

“We accepted from the beginning that one week was all we were ever going to have.”

Reaching across the space between them, Jefferson pulled her from the chair and into his arms, his touch comforting, completely nonsexual. “We’ve nursed you through a broken heart before, my dear,” he said, sounding certain, if a little tired. “We can do so again.”

She wished a broken heart was the only consequence of her time with Jack. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered, fighting tears.

“Don’t talk like that,” he said, his voice soothing. “You can’t be blamed for being attracted to a man your own age. It’s natural.”

“You have to be disappointed in me.”

“I am disappointed,” he admitted with a heavy sigh, and the knife inside Erica twisted further. “But not in you.”

“How could you not be?”

“Because I know you, Erica, and I know that you’d never purposely do this—to either of us. How can I blame you for being human?”

“You’re far too generous.”

“Marrying you was the most reckless thing I’ve ever done,” he said, gazing into her eyes. “I’m almost three decades older than you. I know, and I’ve always known, that our marriage contravenes the natural order of things. As I said, I don’t fault you for what you did. What you felt…”

“But you’re disappointed, anyway.”

“I’m disappointed that I’m not twenty years younger, that when I finally fell head over heels in love with a woman, she wasn’t my own age and at the same place in life. I’m disappointed that I’m too old to do for you whatever this Jack guy did.”

Erica started to feel sick again. She freed herself from her husband’s arms, whispering, “There’s more.”

“You slept with him.”

Though it took more strength than she thought she had, Erica forced herself to keep looking at him. “How did you know?”

“I suspected as much the day you got back. Don’t forget, honey, I’ve taken you there myself. You get a certain look about you after you’ve made love. A softness, a satisfied peace. It’s a look I haven’t seen in a long time.”

Only someone as attuned to her as Jefferson would notice such a thing.

“I’m so sorry, Jeff,” she said hoarsely. “I can’t believe I’ve done this. That I’ve hurt you like this. I didn’t think I could do such a thing. And certainly never wanted to.”

“I know,” he said, his eyes filled with the sadness he wouldn’t express in words.

“I’d do anything to take it all back….”

“I know that, too,” he said, and then held her hand, much like she’d held Jack’s that night he’d told her about losing his wife and daughter. “Of course, it would’ve been best if you’d walked away before there was anything to take back, but if I think that way, I’m going to get angry and that won’t do us any good.”

“You should be angry.”

He bowed his head, and she couldn’t see what he was thinking. “No,” he finally said, looking up at her. “Anger is unproductive and so is regret. Rather than wishing for the impossible, the wiser thing to do would be for us to put this behind us and move forward.”

Did he want a divorce?

“Forward how?”

“If, as you say, there’s no chance of a relationship between you and this man, if you still want to continue living the life we’ve created here, I see no reason for anything to change. Our reasons for marrying still stand. I still love you, want to take care of you. Professionally, I still need a wife….”

She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t.

Because there was more. Something that prevented her from ever returning to Jack.

But something she didn’t think Jefferson should have to accept, either.

SHE HAD SOMETHING else to tell him.

Senator Jefferson Cooley sat next to his beautiful young wife on the pale beige seat and waited.

He could handle whatever she had to say. She wasn’t leaving him. That was all that mattered—Erica allowing him to share her life.

He was one hell of a lucky man.

Or a pathetic man?

Where that thought came from, he didn’t know. But as his wife looked at him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, with soul-deep sorrow, with panic and a despair that went beyond anything he’d ever read there before, the thought just disappeared.